by Ella Frank
He tried to ignore the fact that she did actually sound happy to hear from him. “Would you rather I call back? Is this a bad time?”
“What? No. I was just leaving the hairdresser, actually. This is perfect.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but he was in it now, and he wasn’t going to back down or pussy out. He needed to say what he’d called to say and then hang up. “Right, well…I was just calling to see if maybe—”
“Yes,” she said before he could even finish, and Tate shook his head.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just…I didn’t think you’d call at all. I mean, I hoped you would, but I really didn’t think you would. If that makes sense.”
“It does,” he said as he stared at the photograph sitting on the side table by the remote. He picked it up and smiled at the image staring back at him. It was one of his favorites. It was of him and Logan at the cabin last Christmas. They’d snapped a selfie out in the snow with him in his beanie and Logan with snowflakes all over his jet-black hair and eyelashes as he kissed Tate’s cheek. “I wasn’t going to,” he told her as he continued to look at the two grinning fools in that photo.
“No?” she said softly. “What changed your mind?”
“I don’t know. But Jill?”
“Yes, Tate?”
He put the photo back on the table and sat forward, thinking about his next words carefully. She needed to know one way or another before this reconciliation or intervention—yeah, that thought has definitely crossed my mind—that he and Logan were non-negotiable. They were a package deal. And if she didn’t get that, then he didn’t need her in his life.
“If you want to meet just to try and convince me that what I’m doing with my life is wrong and that it’s a sin or some shit—”
“Tate?”
“What?” he snapped, not even caring that he sounded pissed. He was pissed, and maybe it would do Jill some good to know that this wasn’t all going to be fixed with a few nice words. If that was what she was hoping for.
“I don’t want that at all.”
“Then what do you want? Because I have to say I’m a little bit fucking confused by your sudden need to see me. Don’t you still talk to Dad? He’s had my number all these years, Jill.”
He gripped the back of his neck, frustrated. God, why does this have to be so hard?
“Can I meet with you?” Jill asked, her voice soft and low, just the way he remembered it, and Tate shut his eyes and sighed.
“When?”
“Are you free today?”
“Today?” he asked, his eyes snapping open so he could look at the clock on the wall.
“Sure. If you can. If not, you tell me when.”
He knew she was trying to do this while he was in a lenient mood, and he guessed he couldn’t blame her for that. But did he really want to do this today? Right now? Ugh, what the hell. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off.
“Okay. How about coffee at the Daily Grind on La Salle? Do you know it?”
“I’ll find it,” she answered. “What time?”
“About an hour. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I’ll be there. Oh, and Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Don’t thank me yet, he thought, wondering how this meetup would end. “I’m not promising anything here, Jill. But I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“See you,” Tate said, and ended the call. Then he took in a deep breath and let it out. See, you did it, he told himself, and when he got to his feet to head through to the bathroom and get ready, he sent a quick text to Logan: Meeting Jill in an hour. Wish me luck.
Logan: You sure you don’t want me to come? If you say yes, you might actually save my life.
He frowned at the message. Why’s that? Then he shoved his sweats to his ankles and stepped out of them as a video message came through.
Hitting the play button, he immediately recognized Robbie, but the man he was standing opposite wasn’t anyone Tate was familiar with. He was a tall guy in a grey suit with a fulminating look on his face as he glared at Robbie, who had his hands on his hips and was saying, “You have the personality of a tree stump.” Then the video cut off and a text came through.
Logan: Apparently, Robbie doesn’t like priests.
Ahh, so that’s Priestley. Well, I’m naked and about to get wet. So I’m going to leave you with your priest problems (which seem to be following you lately—maybe it’s a sign) while I go and sin for a bit.
Logan: Fuck you.
Tate laughed. Maybe tonight. Right now you need to rescue my newest employee. He’s the one who will enable you to do what you just wrote above—more often.
When all he received back were several ellipses, Tate chuckled and got under the warm water.
He’d go and see Jill, get that over and done with, and tonight he’d hang out with Logan and maybe give Robbie a bit of tit for tat. After all, it was about time he got his revenge on that particular man. And anyone that had Robbie that riled up had to be worth ribbing the guy over for a night or two.
LOGAN STUDIED THE two men in his office as he slipped his phone into his pocket and tried to push the visual of Tate naked in the shower out of his mind. He had other issues to deal with right now that he’d rather do without an erection. Namely making sure Robbie didn’t claw Priest’s face in the next two seconds. Which had Logan coming back to his original question. What the hell had he missed in that meeting?
“Okay, you two,” Logan said, walking over to where Robbie and Priest stood glaring at one another. “What’s going on here?”
“What’s going on,” Robbie said, turning to aim his annoyance directly at Logan, “is he is an ass.”
“I’m sorry,” Priest said, his tone ice cold. “I wasn’t aware I was here to make friends with you.”
“See?” Robbie said, pointing a finger at Priest. Holding up his legal pad between them, Logan made sure to keep his amusement at the situation to himself.
“Wind it back a bit,” Logan said, looking to Priest, who’d shoved his hands in his pockets, probably to make sure he didn’t strangle Robbie—Logan knew that feeling. “What happened?”
Priest let out an irritated sigh and looked at Logan. “I was going over the case with Mr. Bianchi and his family, and he didn’t like what I had to say.”
“Because you delivered it with all the emotion of a dead fish,” Robbie said, and then crossed his arms. “That’s my cousin’s life you’re talking about in there.”
Priest aimed his eyes at Robbie, and Logan didn’t envy Robbie being at the end of that formidable glare. “And I’m the one who’s saddled with the responsibility of making sure she still has one at the end of this. I don’t have the luxury of getting emotional, and you interrupting me every five seconds because you don’t like my tone or feel as though I’m not holding your hand through the process is not going to win this case.”
Robbie’s face turned the same shade as a beet, and Logan wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam coming out of his ears as Robbie took a step forward and jabbed a finger in Priest’s direction. “You are an ass.”
“I might be. But I’m the ass who is going to save hers. So you need to back off and let me do my job, sweetheart.” Priest looked at Logan and said, “If we’re quite done here, I’ll see you in there.” And then he turned on his heel and left the office, leaving a dumbfounded Robbie in his wake.
Several seconds passed by, and then Robbie whirled around and aimed his furious eyes up at Logan’s. “You have to fire him.”
Logan chuckled and shook his head. “No way. This is too entertaining.”
“Did you just see the way he talked to me?”
Logan stepped around Robbie, held his hand out with the notepad, and nodded toward the conference room. “I did. And he’s right.”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
/>
“I’m dead serious,” Logan said. “Joel Priestley’s one of the top defense attorneys in the U.S. right now, and he didn’t get that way because he’s nice. He would go to his grave to keep a client’s secrets.” Robbie’s mouth fell open, but Logan just kept on talking. “That ass is your cousin’s best bet of not spending years in jail when all the evidence says that she should. So, how about you and I go back in there and you try to keep your mouth shut? And if you’re a good boy, I might even buy you a drink later tonight.”
Robbie made an indignant noise and rolled his eyes, and as he walked by Logan, he said, “Fine. But I still want it on record somewhere that that man is an ass.”
Chapter Twenty
WHEN TATE GOT to the Daily Grind and stepped inside, he scanned the interior of the familiar coffee shop to see if Jill had arrived. When he didn’t spot her, he went ahead and ordered his drink and a chocolate muffin, then headed for one of the booths down the side wall so he could sit and watch the passersby while he waited.
He looked around at the other people with their friends or family or just sitting by themselves talking on the phone, and remembered a time when he’d been so self-conscious in this shop with Logan that he’d inspected everyone who looked his way, just in case they knew him.
Funny, he thought, taking a sip of his drink. That this was the place he’d told Jill to meet him at. Almost like it was familiar and neutral territory for him. And how coincidental is it that this is where I first met Robbie, when I’m about to train him tonight at work. It was weird sometimes, how life worked out.
Like with Robbie, for example. The man Tate remembered in this shop had been lively, over the top, and totally out there. He hadn’t cared one way or another what anyone thought of him, and his lack of filter had been right up there with Logan’s.
Robbie had been the first person to really make Tate wake up to himself and admit that Logan was who he wanted. Yeah, it’d been because the damn flirt used to constantly put the moves on Logan. But he’d spurred Tate on and made him really accept who he was. And on that last day when he’d seen Robbie here at the Grind and had been brave enough to tell him that Logan was off the market…that had been a great fucking day.
However, time had changed Robbie, and Tate still wasn’t quite sure why. He supposed that was one of the reasons he’d offered him the position at The Popped Cherry when he found out Robbie was qualified.
He had a lot to thank that kid for, and if he could help him out in some way, then this was his way of doing that—not that he’d ever tell Robbie that.
“Tate?”
Tate glanced over his shoulder, and when he saw Jill standing there, he slid out of the booth and got to his feet. He towered over her—always had, even as kids—and as they both stood there not knowing what to do, Tate shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and said, “Hey.”
“Hello,” she said, and offered a timid smile. Then she glanced around the coffee shop, and he took a moment to really look at her.
She hadn’t changed at all, from what he could see. She wore a red dress and pointy black slip-on shoes for the summer day, and her hair was around her shoulders in loose waves.
“This place is nice,” she said, and when her eyes finally came back to meet his, Tate just nodded. Then she glanced at the table, spotting his food and drink. “I’m just going to go order real quick, and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
As she headed off toward the registers, Tate retook his seat and pulled his phone out for something to do. He scrolled through several emails, a few old texts, and when nothing caught his eye, he shook his head. Put your phone away, dumbass. You came here to talk. So talk.
As he shoved his phone into his pocket, Jill came back, slid into the seat opposite him, and took a sip of her coffee. A chocolate muffin was on the plate in front of her, just like him, and when she lowered her cup, she hummed and said, “They make a delicious hazelnut latte.”
Yep, same as me too. Some things never change.
“Yeah, the coffee and food here are pretty good,” he said as he settled into his seat, trying to get comfortable.
“How’d you find this place? It’s kind of out of the way from your old apartment, isn’t it?”
Tate nodded and looked around. “I guess so,” he said, and then thought, Okay, Jill, moment of truth. “It’s one of the first places Logan brought me on a date. We used to come here a lot. It’s close to his—well, our place and where he works.”
Jill didn’t so much as flinch as she peeled the wax paper off the bottom of the massive muffin in front of her and cut it into quarters. “Oh, that’s right. His law firm is in the building down the street. I remember.”
So do I, Tate thought. I remember you looking at me like some kind of disgrace to humanity up in those offices.
“Yes,” he said, and congratulated himself on not saying anything more.
“You used to work in the same building, right? At that bar? After Hours?”
Tate reached for his own muffin and removed the paper for something to do with his hands. He didn’t think he’d actually be able to stomach any food right then, but hell, he couldn’t just sit there. “That’s right. That’s where I met him.”
Jill sat back in her seat and regarded him in the same bold way he and his father had about them. A Morrison family trait, through and through. “Logan Mitchell of Mitchell & Madison. That’s him, isn’t it?”
Tate narrowed his eyes on her and his spine stiffened. The question was innocent enough, but at the same time she could’ve asked him what the weather was outside and he would’ve been on edge.
“Tate?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He owns the law firm with his brother, Cole Madison.”
Jill picked up a piece of her cut muffin and popped it into her mouth, and once she’d finished it, she said, “I looked him up online a couple of years ago. And recently they were in the news with a case they were working on. Umm, Berivax, wasn’t it? The big drug company.”
“That’s right,” Tate said in a clipped tone, wondering where she was going with this. Then she said something that would’ve floored him, had he not already been sitting on his ass.
“He’s extremely handsome. Logan, that is.”
Tate knew his eyes had to be as round as the plates on the table, because Jill’s hand paused on the way to her mouth and she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…” She lowered the uneaten piece of muffin to her plate. “You’re not talking, and I—”
“What do you want me to say, Jill?” he finally said, sitting forward in the seat and resting his forearms on the table. “I’m still trying to work out what you want. We haven’t seen each other in years, and you made it abundantly clear why. So, I guess I’m trying to wrap my head around your motives. Why are you here? I find it hard to believe it’s to tell me that my boyfriend’s hot.” Tate paused for a moment and then added, “Even though he is.”
When a tiny smile tipped the corner of her lips, Tate relaxed a little despite himself. Jill swallowed and sat back, looking as though she were thinking over her next words.
“I’m sorry, Tate.”
He was sure he’d misheard or, shit, was in some kind of alternate reality, because surely she hadn’t just said—
“I’m sorry for everything. I’m so appalled by my own behavior toward you. I hardly even recognize it as myself.”
The self-recrimination in her voice managed to cut through Tate’s incredulity as he sat thoroughly stupefied by what he was hearing.
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to tell you that. And before you say it, I know Dad has your number. But my relationship with him…” She shook her head. “It hasn’t been the same since your accident.”
Tate let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, and brought a hand up to scrub it over his face. This was…it was unbelievable.
“Tate,” she said, sitting forward and reaching across
the table. When her fingers grazed his, Tate slowly withdrew his hand. She didn’t sit back, however. She stayed as she was, her eyes imploring him to listen. To give her the chance she’d never given him. And as he stared at her, he fought every instinct he had to get up and leave her sitting there by herself, the same way she had done when he needed her. “I…I don’t even know how to put this into words—”
“Try,” he finally said, his voice barely audible.
When her eyes found his, they were glassy, and Tate steeled himself against the urge to reach over, take her hand, and tell her it would be all right. That wasn’t his job anymore. She’d thrown her big brother away years ago when she’d banished him from her life. So if she wanted that back, if she wanted to mend what she had broken, then she needed to be the one to do the reaching.
“Right,” she said, and drew her hands back across the table to place them in her lap, her food forgotten. “I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning.” She took in a shaky breath and let it out. “I’m sorry for the way I acted, or reacted, that first day in Logan’s office.”
Tate didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The only reason he even knew he was breathing was that he hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen. But he thought it might be a real possibility soon.
“I have no excuse,” she continued, and chewed on her lower lip as though she were trying to hold her emotions in check. “I was in shock, but that doesn’t excuse the awful things I said to you. The way I treated you…” she said, her words fading as a tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”
Tate had to look away from her then, because no matter what she’d done to him over the last few years, seeing her sitting there in pain was harder than he’d ever expected it to be.
She brought a hand up, brushed the tear from her cheek, and sniffed. “Then that Sunday came around, and you and Logan came to the house.”
“I remember,” he said, the ugly memory of that day forever ingrained in his brain as one of the most awful experiences he’d had in his life. But it was also the day Logan had told him that he loved him for the first time, and even though it hadn’t been perfect, the memory of that allowed Tate to shove the rest of that day to the very depths of his soul. Somewhere in the cracks and shadows, where he didn’t have to look at it. He just knew it was there.
